"The Soap Opera " Topic
11 Posts
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OSchmidt | 26 Sep 2013 7:40 a.m. PST |
I am finding that the above is one of the dangers of getting into Imagi-Nations in more than a superficial way. Once you start making the back stories and get into the personals of your "Royals" you become more and more fascinated by the plots and stories that arise as you consider the ins and outs of their relationships. In each of my five imaginations, all of them admittedly set up as a burlesque of a real-life country, the moving of the story from a mere name or a geographical expression into the personalites brings in one dimension, and the other when you begin placing faces and drawing up the appearance of the characters. I find that I am less and less interested in the very narrow dimension of war with these Imagi-Nations but the character development, stories, and course of events- in short the whole Soap Opera of the thing. A while ago on the 18th century thread I was asking if anyone knew a set of role-playing rules for the period. The answers were mostly unsatisfactory as they all circled around combat and dueling, but that really wasn't the main focus, and I've been working on my own. But you really don't need the rules for that. What I am now finding is thinking about the interactions and gaming of these "Soap Opera Stories" and the lives and personalities of the people I have created. |
altfritz | 26 Sep 2013 7:50 a.m. PST |
Have you ever looked at the old Avalon Hill game "Down With the King"? It involves faction vying to get "their" heir crowned. It had tables for various social activities and possible loses, both financial and in prestige. It was one of their old bookcase games, but is played with cards and doesn't have a game board. There are at least two modern board games also set around the same period – one called Musketeers (IIRC) and the other Quebec, also IIRC. Both seem to involve court intrigue. There are a number of Musketeer based RPGs, including one in which Cardinal Richelieu is actually the Devil. Perhaps you could look to Pendragon for inspiration. That game is all about running a multi-year campaign. |
Coelacanth | 26 Sep 2013 8:15 a.m. PST |
Philippe Tromeur's Wuthering Heights RPG; there are three stats, Rage and Despair (which are more or less self-explanatory) and Oldness (sort of an aggregate age/wisdom/health). There is also a table for Problems. A PDF version exists somewhere, but I didn't want to link anyone directly to an unknown PDF download. unseelie.org/rpg/wh Ron |
optional field | 26 Sep 2013 8:29 a.m. PST |
I've read some fiction describing the lives (and frequent deaths) of several members of an ImagiNation during WWII on another message board, a number of years ago, that might interest you. I think it was on Warships1 discussion boards, but I'll have to check. In the meantime maybe someone here can find the actual site
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OSchmidt | 26 Sep 2013 10:12 a.m. PST |
Dear Alte Fritz Saw that game years ago. Bought it, played it, stank on ice, threw it out. The problem with all those is that they are good if you don't know where you want to go with the stories, I do, and that's the fun of it. The game only gets in the way of the story. If you want to make these things you have to look at Opera and then make it even more ridiculous. All you need are the four cardinal virtues, the seven deadly sins, clever maids, scheeming barbers, various interesting eastern potentates wandering on and off stage, a few jolly bandits, a pirate or two, and a few addle-brained governess to switch babies around, and you've got it. Dear Coelocanth. I HAVE GOT TO LOOK THAT ONE UP! Thanks! I love the categories. I was thinking in my own effort at a light handed 18th century role playing game, you only need a few as everyone who is anyone who is going to be interesting is going to be noble, rich, noble and rich, so we can pretty much forget that one (otherwise you've got too much to do to keep body and soul together and you're not going to get invited to the Duchess of Richmond's Ball (except to buss the tables). But this sounds great! Thanks again. Dear Optional Field Yes I would be interested in that. I will be searching myself. Thanks. You know, it becomes a dangerous thing when such characters get killed off. Like ongoing movie or television characters, one invests an emotional content in them, yet-- when you take the long view, they msut, at some point die. This is interesting we deal in death by the trainload in wargames thinking nothing of sweeping out of this, the best of all possible worlds, ten thousand or so little lead souls without a thought, but when it comes to the main characters it becomes a little more difficult. Thanks all. For example, of the |
Jeroen72 | 26 Sep 2013 10:43 a.m. PST |
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Ed Mohrmann | 26 Sep 2013 2:58 p.m. PST |
Otto, En Garde has (IMO) much to consider as a STARTING point for what you're seeking. We took the original back in '76, wrung it out, added and subtracted, tweaked, pushed/pulled and wound up with a great RPG (played in-group only, of course). If you can find a copy of the original, give it a look. |
OSchmidt | 27 Sep 2013 5:10 a.m. PST |
Dear Ed I've seen it, have it in my files, but sorry-- no. Thanks for the reccommendation but the game idea I am looking for has absolutely no need for the lavish "fencing" system and combat. In fact, I envision a completely combatless game. From what I've found in my readings, the person who has fought one duel might gain a sort of glamours renown. A perosn who fought two would be well on the road to pariahdom. The game I was looking for was one that could be an adjunct to war games campaigns where players could "sit out" a campaign or a meeting in a campaign and play as a well connected minister, landowner, or person of importance in the civil administration or country government. |
altfritz | 27 Sep 2013 5:23 a.m. PST |
Game an Act of Parliament? There is that system that used arguments? Matrix Games. Have you tried them? Howard |
optional field | 27 Sep 2013 9:28 a.m. PST |
Found it! The ImagiNation in question is Tarranty, and a rough guide to the nation is here: link the links to the fiction on that page are dead, however the material appears to be archived here: link |
OSchmidt | 27 Sep 2013 10:11 a.m. PST |
Dear Opional field Thanks, I read a few of them and saved the link and will read more at home after work. Mine is a bit more shimsical as this selection from chapter 3 of th History of Saxe Burlap und Schleswig Beerstein will show. The scene is being set where Captain Schlockendrecker of the Famous Ansbach-Bayreuth Dragoons is being posted to a small manor near the town where the massacre of the various rulers of the Small-States of Europe is going to take place. This is the result of a Tontine contrived in 1747 by Frederick the Great and the failed historian Quintus Icillius, to get him even more land after his filching of Silesia. The plan is simple, invite all the legions of the rulers of the tiny German states, from every little free-village, reichsfreiherr, petty duke, baron, free town and whatever, every abbey and small bishopric to a town for a gigantic party where they will be plied with free food, wine, and liberal bribes to sign to the Tontine. This is an agreement that the last person alive will inherit the domains of all the others. The Tontine is quite fixed you see. Frederick is not going to wait till all these people die, and Quintus Icillus has hired a group of Mongols in the Russian Army in the Low countries to raid the town, massacre everyone within excep tthe Prince of Potzunpans, who will then abdicate to Frederick in exchange for a huge pension, and a fast trip to America, India, Japan, or wherever he cares to go so long as they never see his face again. Once this is done, the troop of Ansback-Bayreuth Dragoons is there to attack and massacre the mongols and so cover the tracks of Frederick and Quintus. They and frederick will be the heroes and avengers of the massacre and be able to sweep the table of the small duchies, cry BANQO and walk away with most of Germany. Things, as they say, do not always work out as they seem, and as the previous chapter ends, it says "And this is the part of our tale where the angel of irony began to stick his fingers into the works. HOW THE PLANS OF THE GREAT ONES OF THE WORLD CAME TO TOUCH THE LOWLY AND INSIGNIFICANT HOUSE OF SAXE BURLAP. By Victor Schmidt Only one regret clouded the sky of Captain Schlockendrecker as he led his squadron of the famed Ansbach-Bayreuth Dragoons thundering down the road, and that was the unfortunate incident of the traveler he and his troops had ridden flat. He regretted that he had not more time to stop and have the worthless fool run the gauntlet and then be drawn and quartered- he might have hurt his horse! Anyway, there was no use mooning over missed opportunities– he had an mission from the King himself and he must be about it! If there was a loving and just God, he thought, he would save the life of the miserable wretch so that he could come back sometime in the future and break the miscreant at the wheel when he had the time to do things up properly! The stern visaged Captain could barely spare a moment for these reflections however, for he was highly perplexed at his orders, orders from the Great King himself, and orders that he knew, if they were not obeyed would have dire consequences for his career. But it was not an easy task that was set before him, and he fully believed in his heart of hearts that it would take a whole two regiments, and not just the mere squadron he commanded. There was the problem of the Monghols, and of guarding the Wagons, and securing the safety of the Prince von Potzunpans, and the payments to be made and the fast journey to Holland, all these and more. This it can be understood that he completely missed the sign in green and gold by the side of the road that read --- When Life Of course when one is distracted, one is, well – distracted – and it sometimes takes time to apprehend things, and thus the good captain can be excused for ALMOST missing the next sign. He saw it, but did not make out the legend clearly, though for you dear reader I can reveal its content -- seems black Now attuned to this, he was quite nimble (as one would expect a captain of the famous Ansbach-Bayreuth Dragoons to be) in apprehending – up ahead -- the next sign by the side of the road, about the same distance from the second as the second had been from the first– about 100 yards. and cares attack. He continued on, not daring to slow his pace till he saw far ahead the same sized sign again in dark green on a yellow background, but this time it read
Don't be dismayed He was intrigued by this as he rode on and so intrigued that he slacked the pace of his coursing charger just slightly so he would not mss it. Sure enough, just around the bend he saw yet another sign, again about the same distance between it and the previous ones, as that had been to its predecessor and so on. come and relax-- And of course it was now anticlimactic to note that the last sign reared up at the same distance again. Schloss Saxe-Burlap The captain smiled, much against his will for such involuntary jocularity had a bad effect upon the trim and taper of the spiky points of his mustachios, an affectation of which he was very – and inordinately -- I might add, proud (as one would expect a captain of the famous Ansbach-Bayreuth Dragoons to be). "Dot ist vunn klever pecker– dot Innkeeper!" He thought. Well – as he rode down the road he saw yet another sign, and beyond that, in the distance another, and this series read, as he passed each one. The Food is hot The Drinks are cold 100 maids- with bosoms heaving. Rooms aplenty no lines- no waiting. Schloss Saxe-Burlap. The Captain was now both amused and, it must be confessed interested. "Ziss vouldt be interestnk "he thought, biting his lip (which caused him again to curse his inattention to his mustachios), " ein right Geniftygen plats zu kickenbacken undt der brewskisees ver downengulpen! Iff I only vast der time having!" And so the Captain rode on , stalwart and proud and totally dedicated to his duty (as one would expect a captain of the famous Ansbach-Bayreuth Dragoons to be). The road went on and on, and he was just beginning to wonder if there was something amiss for the sun was dipping low on the horizon and there was still no sign of Katzchen. He was about to turn back when he saw another series of signs. No Lies No hype No Bloviation Just good old Fashioned Fornication. Schloss Saxe Burlap. He guffawed out loud and was really verwundertingmachen– I mean wondering, if he had the time to stop, but before he could once again recover his resolve, his adjutant came up and broke his train of thought. "Mein Kapitan, I zink zat Ziss ist der nicht so gutenroad dat we are ver kloppety-kloppetying down zugoing. For I have seen nicht ein litten itsenbitschen hintchen auf der town of Katschen
" The Captain roared at him and gave him the flat of the back of his hand. "VERDUMMENKOPF! Vat are you making of der insult und der sneeringsaying Dot I Der Kaptan auf der Famous Ansbach Bayreuth Dragoonen is verlostenstupid like ein little panty-waisten bab vat ist vanderink around in der woodzen!? I vill break you down to private for dis, und if you are nicht zipperinguppender yappen vill breaken you down zu der guy vat goes around in der schtables mit der poopperscuuppen!" He turned to be greeted by a new series of signs as his adjutant dropped back to contemplate his possible new career path in equine sanitation management. Pedro Walked To Here and Back His mood you see Was very Jolly His Handsome beard Was hot-to-Molly. Schloss Saxe Burlap. "Vell if dey are verliking der scruffy beards on dem gotverdommeneda dagos dey vould just go wild for mein moustachios!" The Captain now had realized that he probably had taken the wrong turn and the sun was now down, and the darkness fast streaming out from between the tall shoe trees and dense rotogravure bushes that lined the road. "Ya! " he reasoned " Es isst verprobably besser zu plunken der bunzen in der soft bed mit der soft pillows next to ein hotchen madchen mit more soft pillos dan versnuggling up mit der horse." He also remembered that the troop was low on rations and was down to its last meal of yaws and goiters. And so he decided to make virtue of necessity and turn an inoprtune mistake to advantage (as one would expect a captain of the famous Ansbach-Bayreuth Dragoons to do). Suddenly the road closed in ahead of them and ended completely just in front of a large magnificent gate with an ornate and ostentatiously splendiferous coat of Arms which proclaimed "Schloss Saxe Burlap! Rest home, Spa, Inn for Weary Travelers, and refuge for wayward girls. –" and in small letters below " we'll leave the light on for you." In the fast ebbing light the Captain could just make out the gate, with the two supporters of the coat of arms above it being large marble statues of scantily draped voluptuous women. Underneath each was a large brick column and on the left one a sign that said "Vacancy" and on the right one that said "Reservations Required unless you have lots of money. No checks, No credit, No shoes No shirts, No service No Coupons- We validate. "Beyond the Captain could see, in the well tended garden many more such suggestive statuary, some in poses and attitudes quite provocative. The captain immediately was concerned with the sensibilities and military bearing of his men, most of whom were innocent, pious farm boys, their welfare, their soldierly bearing, their discipline, and most of all having to share. He bellowed out his orders. "Der squadron will be to machen der beddiebitime auf der barn unt der outverbuildings und all you Knuckleheaded ist nicht to be machend mit der schlappen der ugly mit der chickens und scheepses. Dot may be your breakfast, und der breakfast ist der most important meal auf der day!! Lieutenants zu be reporting zu me in der haus after der squadron ist all versuggenalsderbuggeninderruggen!" The captain dismounted and threw the reins of his horse to his adjutent, and strode towards the house. He amused himself with sly looks at the various lascivious attitudes, poses, and come-hither expressions on the various pulchritudinous female statues as he strode proudly up the long walk, and then was stopped dead in his tracks– his happy jocular mood turned to adamantine anger. There, on each side of the walkway, by the door, was a diminutive statue of Frederick the Great, bent over slightly, with one hand on his cans and the other extended slightly, holding a large metal ring. Each statue had its face painted black with large white bulging eyes, and big thick white lips in the shape of a "U" revealing a sappy snaggle-toothed grin. This was too much for the captain, and he drew his enormous saber and strode up to the front door and pounded heavily on it. He turned to see three of his men groping one of the more alluring statues, and worse, one men giggling at the statue of his king. He recalled the man to his proper duty and soldierly bearing by a well placed paving brick to the head and resolved to put the man through the gauntlet in the morning. He heard the door open behind him and a brilliant flood of light illuminate the front portico. He turned, and his face red with anger, bellowed out in his best gauleiter tone--- "ZISS HOUSE IS CONFISCATEDVERMACHEN BY COMMAND UFF HIS ROYAL MAJESTY FRIEDERICH DER GROSSE, KING OF PRUSSIA, AND VILL BE MY HEADQUARTERS
..UND I AM VANTING DER LOUZY ARROGANT RATTENBASTARD VAT IST VERPUTTING DAT STATUE UFF DER GREAT KING
." Odd it is and queer the reactions of the human mind and body. No matter what the time, or the moment, a mere sound, a bit of glinting light, a noise, a slight sent can disorient and befuddle and transport one to another time, another place, and so it was with Captain Scholkendrecker as he paused to draw breath in mid tirade, for with that inflow of air he breathed in the heady sent of a perfume redolent with memory and happy times, and a voice from long -- long ago dinned his ears with its soft mellifluous siren-song. "Hello Hans
Long time no see." The Captain was silenced and speechless for almost a minute--- - that perfume-- --that voice, --memories of youth, --and happy times of carefree days in camp spent with a busty lusty young wench flooded back to him. Suddenly, nothing mattered, nothing was important, nothing at all, but here name– her name– and in that moment all he could do was search for it. Finally it came to him "Nancy? Nancy? Ist dot you????" "Yes Hans, it's me. I'm flattered you remembered my name." "Ach how could I forget
" His mind reeled to connect the picture he had in his mind with the plump, but not at all uncomely figure of the woman now in front of him, a figure that still wore in that face, the haunting suggestive and impish promise of ecstatic delights. . "Yes Hans!" she said "It's me, Nancy, as you all called me, though I prefeedr Lil." "Oh dat's right !" He said, "but I recall zat vass not your real name vass it?" "No Fritz, it was McGill." "Ya Dot is right Dot ist right!" Your name was McGill, undt you called yourself Lil, but efferyone knew you as Nancy." "It's sweet of you to remember after all these years." The Captains mind was now such a seething confusion of sentiments, that he hardly knew which way was up, and had recovered some whatever paltry bit of good humor he ever had, and abated his anger. He was still a little peeved about the statues of Frederick, but as he gazed at the figure of Nancy, whose large bosom softly heaved up and down under its confining shelf of lace and whalebone in the lavish and ornate dress, he realized that there were other things of importance in the world. "Ach of all der cheap jin joints in all der vurld I have to walk into dis one
" and at the beckoning of Lil, he entered the large front hall of the Inn. He suddenly had a fleeting memory of the insult done to his king by the lawn-jockey statues, but he shrugged it off. "Ach– serves dot little peckerhead right!" "Umm you've gotten quite zaftig in those years" I see, The Captain said. Lil smiled and said "I hope Fritz, that you find me Zaftig in the right places.." The Captain's heart lept with joy at the thought of rekindling the old flames of the past. Men, it might be noted, love a woman with a past- they keep hoping history will repeat itself. "Er ah! Tell me Nancy, I mean Lil, Bist do verworkink here?" "No Fritz, I own the place. "You OWN this place? " Yes Fritz, I am now the owner of the place and the wife of the Prince of Saxe-Burlap himself." "NO!!!" the captain blurted out in astonishement "Vell Kate I zee dat der years haff been guten to you too." The two had just entered the main hall of the Inn and he was about to ask by what set of curious chances his old friend of the camps years ago had become the wife of the personage of a Prince, and of course the possibility of a re-opening of the sublime pleasures they had enjoyed as youths, when the Captain was recalled to his duty by that strict, almost inbred sense of duty and discipline so much the Halmark of a Prussian officer. Suddenly, spying a figure descending the stairs, he blurted out "Your Majesty!" and doffed his hat and dropped to one knee as if he was a puppett whose puppeteer had just cut the strings. He noticed that Lil was quite unmoved and was in fact giggling. In chagrin he roared, though his head still remained bowed. "Ist Ziss zer proper manner fur you zu be greetink der King of France! You saucy Wench!" His words did not have the desired effect of sobering her mood, but in fact only moved her to outright laughter. The Captain was completely perplexed. But the figure descending the stairs waved his hand in a genial gesture, and calmly said in a slow and somewhat hoarse voice, which sounded as if he had stuffed tissue paper in his jowly cheeks--"Tut tut my good man – calm yourself calm yourself- aspete, aspete- please rise." The apparition that had caused this behavior in the captain must not go without description. He was tall and heavy set, but wore a resplendent uniform of a scarlet red coat with long tails. The chest of the coat was almost a solid crust of gold braid with the buttons set with brilliants and sequins. The cuffs were broad patches of rich dark green, set off with carefully intertwined flowery gold lace in the form of laurels and ivy, and immaculate silk breeches trimmed with ornate and lavishly expensive brabant lace, which also depended in copious folds form his cuffs. The coat had not only two enormous gold epaulettes, but aigrette on each shoulder, and below, a medium green waistcoat also set with golden buttons frogging and lace. Above, the coat had four brilliant ribbons in light blue, black, red, and Red and White, which the captain believed he saw the Order of St. Louis, the Garter, Golden Fleece, and the Star. The left breast, ridign the crust of braid as the foam does on the billowing wave, was a veritable constellation of stars and medals. The buckles of the black shoes were silver set with diamonds, and the mans head was framed, almost adumbrated as with a halo, with an enormous bicorne side to side, with triple rows of Ostrich plumes in red, white and Green, and in place of a cockade, the Turkish Rejtmajin a gift of the Sultan himself was perched. This was a solid plate of gold set with diamonds and rubies, and rotated on a clockwork so that as it turned it sparkled when it caught the light. It was in fact, the same order that Lord Nelson would later receive from the Turkish Sultan for his victory at the Nile. This figure's decoration, however, was far more resplendent for in addition to its clockwork it contained a small music box that played "That's Amore" The wearer of this magnificent ensemble, shifted his pose to rest on the teak and mahogany cane he carried,, set with gold and crowned with an enormous ruby, and said
. "Please do not trouble yourself, my good man, it is easy to understand your confusion and mistake when one comes face to face with anyone appearing in the fatigue uniform of a Major in the Neopolitan Army." "Acht You are niccht der bullpoopen machen? Really– ist Dot zo– der fatigue uniform- Mine Gott, vat musst der full dress uniform look like." "Oh-- I am told that even this majestic couteriage pales in insignificance beside it, though I cannot attest to that in fact, for I have never seen it, but I have read a description of it, though even that costs several thousand marks alone so – I borrowed it from a local library." "As for the higher ranks of the Neopolitan Army they are permitted to go about in dress as they please. I have heard that the Almighty has a uniform of a full General, which he wears on certain gala occasions, but even he, I am told, cannot afford that of a full field Marshall. So you see my dear Katie, it is obvious that someone would mistake a Neopolitan Major for his majesty the King of France, until he is apprized of his unfortunate mistake, but one not entirely unappreciated by the wearer." "Ja, I can see dat!" So You ist being Ein Major in der Neopolitanische Army?" "Indeed – quite right sir," The fantastically garbed figure said, and as if to add emphasis to his magnificence, took out a jeweled snuff box the size of a small canteen and took a pinch, brushing away the bits ostentatiously with a silk and brocade handkerchief. "Und you ist Ein Guesten hier?" Lil broke in. "No Hans he is the Major Domo of this house." "The Major Domo? You mean du bist der ver headenbigkahunentype Steward?" "Indeed Sir, that is my position" and the man made as low a bow. As he did several spare stars and medals dropped from his pockets, and a par of brass knuckles and a small truncheon from inside his coat.. "Ummm. Dot is der Peachy Keen gooden Swell, but kan you be verstandenmoven a bit zu der left, der glare von der braid is verhurtingmachen mein eyes." :"Of course sir, I fully understand, I must wear a cloak on fully sunlit days lest serious injury occur to casual passers by." "Dots besser, but Ich kann nicht greeting you properly be unless I am verknowing your name!?" "Ah of Course, Permit me to intrtoduce myself – I am Major Domo." The captain was taken aback for a moment. "Umm Sorry but dot ist not vot I vass quizzingk machen. I mean vass ist your firsten name, your Christian name, dot name zat your friends all hooten unt hollering venn dey wish you to come schlippen der qvick vunn down at zer corner gaststube." The man smiled genially, and said – "It is Major Domo." The Captain scratched his head and said "Zo you are sayink dot your monniker ist Major Domo, and you are at zer same time nichtfibben und der crossenderheartundhoppentokickenderbuckett der Major Domo uff ziss household" "Yes, precisely, the family name is in fact Domo, and I was a major in the Neopolitan Army, and I found it most felicitous to take employment with this gracious lady which happily equaled my name with my title. To bring to a short termination this conversation with the least embarrassment and misunderstanding I will say that my first name, my given name, my Christian name is in fact Major." "Hotzentotzen Now dot ist ein real korker.!" "Not really sir. For you see the Domo are a fine old family of highly respected Banditti in the kingdom of Sicily, and in fact in the upper crust of such society. My father Fritijentius deciding upon some means to spend the vast wealth he had acquired through the successful plying of his trade, fastened upon the idea of purchasing for me a commission, even before I was born, in the Nepopolitan Army, namely the rank of Major. He thus reasoned that rather than bothering with a regular Christian name, to call me Major" and thus save everyone a lot of fuss and trouble, – though I see his confidence was quite misplaced in your case (as one would expect a captain of the famous Ansbach-Bayreuth Dragoons). "Umm er
Ok Dots up to you. But ist it seemly for a person vot ist ein major in der Neopolitan Army to take ein job ast in such a place as– as– vell as ziss.. Ein Gnookiegnookiecabin?" "Ah, Captain, I see you are laboring under a lack of familiarity with the condition of the Nepoolitan Service. I can assure that going from the rank of Major to general chucker-out in a bawdy house is indeed, in the estimation of genteel society, a great step up. "No verkiddingk!" "Yes and besides that the work is relatively honest, the pay is good and the fringe benefits are quite attractive, not the least of which of course is the employee discounts upon the rental of the er- dare I say "merchandise." "Ja, dot I can vell be imaginink." It was at this point that the lieutenants had finally arrived after attending to their chores (and of course acquainting themselves fully with the various intricacies of the garden statuary, and entered the room, each sporting a ravishing raven haired beauty on each arm, and each one dressed in lavish and flashy gowns with their bosoms hiked up like the figurehead of a ship. Lil then suggested that all of them go in to dinner. As they moved in, the Captain turned to the Major Domo and said "Vell I can be verseeink dot Major ist ein lot better name dann dot monniker dot your fodder had- Fritigenitus, dot is vunn bum plug– unt he vass ein Banditti zo booten!" "Well that is true, but he was the class of banditi, and the singular would properly be with the masculine declension "o" as in Bandito. Further, his name was only in later life changed to Fritigenitus– an affectation of pretense at the exalted position he had obtained and so he elaborated and latinized his rather simple originalname which was in fact Frito. "Zo yur fodder vass in fact
" "Yes, the Bandito Frito. All my stories are shaggy dog stories, end with horrible puns or are stolen from Opera. |
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